


Finding home

by Ghelik



Series: The 100 Fics [47]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-05-25 03:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14968217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghelik/pseuds/Ghelik
Summary: Time changes everything. Being a family means you accept them. It means you change, too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Home-related titles seem to be a theme with me.  
> And I know I have other multi-chapter stories waiting for an update. But I am currently obsessed with Echo, Bellamy and what I hope is a blossoming triad with one blonde single mom called Clarke.

Bellamy isn’t hiding; he needs a few minutes to _think,_ to process everything that’s happened since he left the Ring, to convince himself Murphy and Emori are ok, Raven’s plan worked, and she isn’t being tortured. He needs to understand what he saw in the bunker and out in the desert. But his mind keeps stumbling over Octavia’s grip on the sides of his head. Her steely eyes, her cutting words, the fact that his heart swelled when she kissed his cheek. _I am glad you’re alive_ , _big brother_. Only to be cut down the next instant. _You are my enemy._

Bellamy knows this is how his sister has always been: stronger, more powerful than him, capable of taking the world in stride. But, after six years, he can’t remember if it always stung like this.

And then there’s Clarke, who, even after he mourned and buried her is still alive: as beautiful and kind and soft and hard and capable as always. A healer, a protector and a mother who survived on her own and never managed to lose herself, and Gods how he’s missed her!

“How are you holding up?”

Bellamy raises his head.

In the dim light of the dilapidated room he found, Echo towers over him, her sharp caramel eyes shining catlike. Harper has put a braid on her hair – Echo always lets Harper play with her hair when the guard’s nervous.

He sits a little bit straighter, the word _fine_ it’s on the tip of his tongue, but then he remembers: this is Echo and says “I’ve been worse,” instead.

The ex-spy snorts: a nearly silent puff of air. In a fluid motion, she’s by his side, folding her long legs under her, leaning her back against the dilapidated wall beside him. Her skin glistens wet, and her tank top clings to her belly. Her usually warm skin is freezing when he takes her hand. Grateful for the distraction, Bellamy rubs the back of her hand, concentrating on getting some warmth back into her.

“So” Echo’s voice is atonal, face schooled and carefully neutral “Clarke’s back.”

He sighs. So much for a distraction.

“Yes.” His head falls heavily on her shoulder. “Is it weird that I miss her now more than when she wasn’t here?”

Echo doesn’t answer immediately. She worries the inside of her lips. “No. I don’t think it is.”

“I should be happy.”

The spy chuckles at his childish whine, turns her hand in his to entwine their fingers together. “You will be happy when the rest of our family is safe as well.”

He frowns not looking at her. “I don’t…”

“Bellamy, it’s been six years. People change. You knew your sister would be different.”

“I don’t recognize any of my friends.” He runs his tongue over his teeth. Clarke, Miller, Octavia. Even Jackson is completely different. Has he changed so much his own sister can’t recognize him anymore?

Echo presses her lips to his hair. “We’ll find out what happened in that bunker. And then we’ll take our place in their clan.”

_But if you ever speak out against Wonkru again, you’re an enemy of Wonkru._

All his life, Bellamy has been sure of one thing: He belongs with his sister. Wherever he goes, whatever he does, he and his sister always fit together.

_This is your fault._

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

There’s a commotion outside. “I think that’d be Blodreina resurfacing.”

Bellamy sighs, closes his eyes and nuzzles his head on her shoulder for just a few moments longer. “Come, let’s see if she’ll receive us now.”

He pushes himself up and holds a hand out to help her up. She has goosebumps all over her arms, and her shoulders shake slightly. Bellamy huffs and shrugs out of his jacket. “There is no need for that.”

“You’re soaking wet.”

“I should’ve brought my bag.” Bellamy raises an eyebrow until his girlfriend blushes and turns her head, accepting the jacket. “You’re so bossy,” she mock-complains even as she burrows into the jacket, discretely nuzzling the collar.

“Yeah, but you like it.”

“Whatever my sire says.” He kisses the smirk off her lips before stepping out of the ruins and into a busy street. Octavia stands proud and regal in the middle of the square with Cooper. _That should be Indra at her right hand_ , whispers a tiny voice in his head. He pushes it down and crosses the distance, Echo at his side.

He can do this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy continues to not hide from everyone. This time is a group of Wonkru children who find him.   
> or: how Bellamy finds out about the Dark Year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I don't know what to do with Bellamy, I give him children. Which always leads to cuteness.

The world is collapsing around him, and there is nothing he can do about it.

Bellamy has been putting out fires all week: with his sister, who’s quicker to anger than ever before. With Monty, who is convinced they’re doing the wrong thing, but can’t seem to come up with a better plan. With Wonkru, which is full of people that don’t trust him and watch his every move. With Clarke, who’s distant and mad at him for some reason.

The days pass, and there is no word from Echo, Eligius keeps sending food that’s systematically burned. Wonkru is restless, and dissent has started to spread in low murmurs all over Polis.  He’s hungrier than he has been in years; he is worried, lonely and wants to go home- who would've thought he would miss the Ring?

Someone giggles, tearing him from his funk. When he raises his head, he finds a group of children huddled in the doorway. They’re lanky, thin like lampposts. Some wear their heads shaved, the hair on the others is dull, grows patchy and sparse. They dress in repurposed clothes that hang from their wiry frames. They remind him of the scarecrows in one of Octavia’s picture books.

Bellamy’s smile feels inadequate. It’s unfair that there’s a safe haven just a few miles away, a place where these children wouldn’t need to be hungry a day longer, and his sister is too caught up in politics to do anything about it.

The children shove each other until one of the girls is pushed forward. She throws her bony shoulders back, puffing her chest. “Is it true you live in the stars?”

Something in his chest twitches and warms.

“Among the stars,” he confirms with a nod. “We had a spaceship.”

“Like Diyoza?” The children hiss like the name is a terrible slur.

“Nah. Ours was cooler.” They giggle, slowly easing into the room.

They’re curious and their questions weirdly specific: what did Spacekru eat? How did they get up there? What did it look like? How was it powered? Did Spacekru have enemies as well? How was the fighting ring? Is he the Bloodking, since he’s related to Bloodreina?

“My mom says you are protecting a criminal Bloodreina banished,” says one of the children.

Bellamy swallows the queasiness and worry that raises every time he thinks of Echo. It has been three days. He’s trying to convince himself that no news is better than bad news.

“That’s right.”

“Did she fight in the space arena?”

“She fought every day for six years.” He says, which is technically true: Echo set a strict training program for every member of Spacekru, mercilessly whipping them into shape, teaching them survival as well as combat skills - if only they'd had a teacher like her on the Ark, a lot more delinquents would've made it.

The children look at each other excitedly. “She must be a great warrior. How many enemies did she slay?”

“It wasn’t that kind of a fight. You have to keep in mind Spacekru is very small. Nobody is expendable.”

“But, if someone broke the rules, how did you punish them?”

“They had to do the worst jobs. Like cleaning the restrooms or looking after the goblin that inhabited the dark side of our home.”

The children inch closer to listen to the story of the grumpy creature that lurked in the shadows. Murphy would smirk and add gruesome details to make them squeak. Bellamy misses his friend. 

After that, he tells them about other adventures his people had over the past six years: solar flares and meteor showers, Zero-G walks and gravity malfunctions, movie nights and the green sludge they had to eat, that tasted like regurgitated cardboard. In turn, the children recount stories about the Arena, tech lessons, the boiler room’s ghost girl. One of them mentions the Dark Year. The others automatically chastise him: “You know it’s forbidden to talk about that!”

“Why?” asks Bellamy, trying to keep calm and encouraging. The children look around, unsure.  Bellamy knows how to be persuasive, he smiles and leans forward, lowering his voice, like they're sharing a secret. “I won’t tell, I promise.”

They shift, unsure, which, considering the harsh punishment for breaking the law, isn’t surprising. Finally one of them seems to gather enough courage to tell him.

Bellamy wishes he hadn't.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the words get stuck in his throat.

The knock on the door makes them all jump. The children shrink away when they see Miller standing in the doorframe, but the young man’s face is friendly and not like he’s about to arrest a bunch of twelve-year-olds.

“Gaia is looking for you,” he says kindly, and the children scrambled out of the room and down the dark hall, Miller looking after them with a fond expression on his handsome face.

Bellamy studies his friend's profile. Once upon a time, this young man was his second in command, the guy he trusted to get the job done. Now, it seems, he's in O's closest circle, which is good, Miller was always trustworthy and kind.  He deserved so much more, and yet because Bellamy opened the bunker doors six years ago, he has been forced to commit terrible atrocities, changing who he was from the bottom up to survive. 

No wonder he can’t recognize any of them. Not with the screams of babies on their conscience.

“You ok?” Miller's sharp eyes are on him, and Bellamy feels a spike of shame for having done this to his friend.

“Yes.”

Miller nods and walks away. Bellamy stays a moment longer. When he leaves, he knows they can’t stay here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting.   
> If you want to share what you think happened in the Dark Year, I'd love to know if I've been too vague ^^


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overdue conversation between Clarke and Bellamy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this story was born because I've read the "I've called you for six years and now you have a girlfriend, which sucks" narrative way too often. And in not enough of those stories were Bellamy's feelings on the matter. So, yeah.

Bellamy’s bone tired when he makes his way back to his room. He, Monty and Harper have been hatching a plan to flee the bunker. Said plan hinges heavily on Clarke agreeing to drive them back to Eden, where they can make an arrangement with Diyoza, get Raven back in exchange for information. Spacekru is resourceful they have knowledge they can trade. He isn’t thrilled that they’re all dangerous murderers, but knowledge of the Dark Year has put his world in perspective. He’s responsible for Spacekru. The sad truth is, Spacekru’s chances are better with the murderous criminals.

With a weary sigh, he opens his door and stops dead in his tracks.

Clarke is here. Standing by the crooked desk, inspecting one Echo’s favorite knife, made out of scrap from the Ring and the bone handle of one of her old ones.

The blonde sways lightly back and forth as she studies the carefully carved runes on the pommel. In her left-hand hangs a bottle. She takes a swing, her face contorting at the taste.

It’s obvious she hasn’t heard the door open which offers him the unique opportunity actually to look at her. Clarke’s short blond hair cupping her jaw, the leather jacket she wears like armor, the small hands he used to know better than his own. At first glance, she’s the same person he knew six years ago. But after the initial wave of relief, gratitude and happiness upon discovering she was alive passed, he started to realize that this woman is nothing like the girl he left behind. And maybe that’s something she noticed, too – her being way more socially intuitive than him – and that’s why she’s been distant ever since the sandstorm. Maybe that's why she doesn’t talk to him, doesn’t even tolerate his presence, feeling a room as soon as he comes in. Bellamy knows they’ve all been stressed with the rapid succession of changes their lives have been through in the past few days. Knows Clarke’s worried sick about Madi, but her distance feels personal like it’s _him_ she doesn’t want to be near of.

Clarke sets the knife back on top of the desk with a soft thud. Echo left all of her weapons behind before defecting – there is quite a collection. Bellamy knows he should pack them; she’ll be pissed if he forgets them, but it feels familiar to stumble over random knives and arrow tips. Right now, anything that brings that sense of normalcy is a relief. 

Clarke picks up an arrow shaft, inspecting it with a grimace. 

“What are you doing here?” His voice comes harsher than he intended.

Clarke jerks back, stumbles a little over her own feet, and turns. Her eyes are bloodshot and black-rimmed, her skin, pale. She blinks at him slowly, like she’s trying to get her thoughts in order, she speaks in a slurred, growly voice: “I don’t want Madi to see me like this.”

She’s drunk. Bellamy has never seen Clarke drunk before.

He hums in understanding, steps fully into the room and closes the door at his back. The blonde busies herself with her bottle.

“Where did you get the moonshine?”

“I stole it from the kitchens.”

“As I understand it, any crime is punishable by Arena.”

“As I understand it, they can go float themselves,” she parrots and, without breaking eye contact, she raises her bottle and takes a long swing. Bellamy chuckles; would ask for a drink, but that fears she'll refuse. The six years between them feel like a chasm at his feet, and he doesn't know how to cross it.

“You can say that again.”

The blonde turns from him, back to the desk, she brushes her fingers over the assorted arrow tips. “So, you and Echo, huh?” she tries for nonchalance and falls epically short.

“Yeah.”

“How people change.”

Bellamy sighs, rubs his hands over his face and wanders over to his cot. “Don’t do this.”

“Oh! I am sorry,” growls Clarke wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “for inconveniencing you. You can go back to your girlfriend and forget I even exist!”

He presses his lips into a white line. “That’s not fair.”

“Tough! Life’s not fair! It wasn’t fair when they floated my dad. It wasn’t fair when Charlotte killed Wells. It isn't fair when your sister pulled Madi into a cult. And it wasn’t fair when you failed to show up after five years.”

“We didn’t have a choice," he grits out, stomping on the spike of anger that raises in his belly.

She smiles, sharp and dangerous, leaning forward so that her breath fans across his cheeks. “You wanna know what else’s not fair? I called you every day for over six years. I waited for you and you went and started fucking _Echo,_ ” her name sounds dirty in Clarke's lips.

Bellamy feels something twist in his chest. The guilt she makes him feel is old, he’s dealt with it and came to terms with, so why does it hurt so much? Why must he go through this shit again?

This conversation feels like his fight with Octavia, and he’s sick of it, sick of defending his choices, choices that are no one’s business but his own. Bellamy has to remind himself that he has done nothing wrong. He’s allowed to be happy; he’s allowed to have people. He's allowed to have a life. Octavia doesn’t own him, and neither does Clarke. It took a lot of work to accept that, but now he refuses to go back. It hurts too much. 

“What exactly is it that bothers you?” he asks slowly. “That I am with someone, that someone is Echo or that I am happy?”

Clarke growls, the contents in her bottle sloshing against the glass. But Bellamy’s used to dealing with snarling people – thank you, Murphy.

“It doesn’t bother me!” spits the blonde. “You can do whatever!”

“Exactly, I can do whatever.” _I am worthy_ , he doesn’t add, but the words ring truer now than they did years ago when Raven and Monty staged their little interventions. “Do you think you’re the only one who has suffered? The only one who missed someone?”

She’s staring at him, clumsily raising one of Echo’s poisoned darts – he’s told her a thousand times not to leave those lying around. “It’s quite obvious you didn’t.”

He sees red, guilt and anger twisting in his chest until he can't keep it in anymore.

“YOU WERE DEAD!” He can’t breathe, tears prick behind his eyes, he fights them down. “You were dead, and I mourned!” The word feels too small; it doesn’t seem enough to describe the pain, the guilt, the days when his body wouldn’t respond, the times he broke down and cried until his whole body ached, the agony of his lungs refusing to draw breath. How can one word properly describe the way he could almost see her, the way he would turn to her only to remember that she wasn’t there and it was because _he_ had broken his promise. _He_ had left her behind. _He_  had killed her. The moments he wanted nothing but to spend a few minutes with her; when he would've given anything to hear her deep voice again. The times he looked at the button in the airlock and wondered why he wasn’t pressing it. It doesn’t encompass the feeling of having lost his better half, or the grueling realization that he had to live without her, because that's what she would've wanted. The slow, grueling reconstruction of his whole self until he was whole again.  “But you know what?” This is worse. This person that wears his best friend’s face but is cruel and angry is not the same person he swore allegiance to; she’s not his best friend, she’s not the woman he missed and mourned and for whom he has lived every day, the main reason he never pushed that button. “Maybe Clarke did die in Praimfaya. Because my best friend would’ve wanted for us to be happy.”

Clarke shakes from head to toe, she can’t look him in the eye, big fat tears rolling down her flustered cheeks. “I do want you to be happy!” she looks like a child.

“Just not with Echo?”

“I…” she chokes down a sob, her eyes fixed on the tips of her scuffed boots. “It’s just- It’s Praimfaya all over again” the dart clatters back down on the desk. “Everyone’s got somebody, and I am alone and I can’t… I’m not strong enough to go through that again.” She sinks to the ground, knees up against her chest, the bottle clanks when it connects with the floor but doesn’t break. “I can’t.” She looks up: vulnerable and lost. “I’ve lost everyone, Bell: my mom, my friends, you, Madi.”

He sighs, steps closer, and sits down beside her; his hands look huge on her shoulders. “Hey. You haven’t lost me; you got that?” He takes her in his arms, rubbing soft circles on her back. She still fits perfectly against him. “Yeah, I got a girlfriend, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ll always be here for you.” He drops a kiss on her hair; she smells the same, too. “I love you, Clarke, nothing will ever change that.”

Her shoulders shake with her sobs, tears dampening his shirt. “And we’ll get Madi back. We’ll go to the valley, and we’ll leave all this mess behind, ok?”

She nods. “Together?” she asks, her voice a barely-there whisper. Bellamy feels himself smiling. “Together.”

That’s the moment the door opens. A very out-of-breath Harper stares at them. “We have a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Too on the nose? I did bend-over-backward to fit the "together" theme back into the narrative. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I can't wait until tonight to see the bloody episode!


	4. Chapter 4

Monty’s workshop’s dimly lit, most of the light coming from the array of monitors set up against a wall. When they come in the young engineer's sitting on a metal bench, radio clasped in his hand. He looks up, eyes going quickly from Clarke to Bellamy, question clear in the up-tilt of his eyebrow.

“What is it?” asks Bellamy.

In lieu of an answer, Monty presses the black button on the side of the radio. “Ok, we’re all here.”

“We’re not taking the eye down,” says Raven’s voice through the speaker.

Bellamy snaps the radio from Monty’s hand. “What? Why?”

“Raven allied with Eligius’ lieutenant,” that’s Echo, curt and to the point.

“We did what we had to, to give you a heads-up about the missile,” grumbles Raven.

“Aren’t they able to hear us?” Bellamy asks worriedly.

“No, I rigged you a safe channel,” says a male voice Bellamy doesn’t know. 

“That’d be the lieutenant,” informs Echo, the warning growl audible even through the tiny speaker on the radio.

“We need to take down the eye, at least for a few hours.”

“No can do,” says the mechanic. “We’re already on thin ice with Diyoza, as it is.”

“With ‘we,’ she means the lieutenant and her.”

There is a beat of silence, then: “We could’ve left you with Macson and Triggs,” says the male voice, and Bellamy feels a spike of fear rise in his throat. He tramples the thousands of questions that arise in his mind and concentrates on the problem at hand.

“It’s either take the eye down and be tortured by Eligius or finding a way to placate Octavia.”

“I can take the torture.”

The radio groans loudly in Bellamy’s hand, and he has to force his fingers to loosen around the plastic. “Echo, stand down.”

“Bellamy-”

“It’s an order.”

He can nearly see her pressing her lips together, the slight twitch of annoyance at knowing she’ll never disobey a direct order. He wishes he could say more, but with an audience, he knows she wouldn't want her to. He misses her, misses smoothing the annoyed frown from the corners of her mouth, misses her scent and the feeling of her skin under his fingertips, misses her dry humor and her accent. “Yes, sire.”

“We’ll find a way to get to you. Don’t do anything reckless.” He runs his tongue over his teeth. When both mechanic and spy fail to answer, he has to suppress a sigh. “Raven?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Echo?”

“As _ai Amin_ commands,” she grumbles tersely. He hates it when she uses that word. Knows by now she'll tease him with words like Haihefa, sire, and commander, but it's Amin the word she uses when she hates what he's asking of her; when she does as she's told because a lifetime of conditioning isn't easily broken, but thinks he's using her as a tool. When she feels diminished and manipulated and less than human. If they were back on the Ring, that night, he would coax orgasm after orgasm out of her, until she was relaxed and content, until his appreciation and love for her were crystal clear once again. 

Over the next few minutes, they exchange as much information as they feel comfortable sharing with the Eligius lieutenant listening in. When it’s time to say goodbye, he feels his hands clamping down around the radio, unwilling to leave his people behind, alone and collared like dogs. “Someone will stay by the radio at all times. You’re not alone.”

Echo chuckles, nearly silently, “We don’t need your mothering, Bellamy.” And then, almost inaudibly. “ _Ai hod yu in._ ”

I love you, he wants to say, but can't get the words out, not with Clarke listening in. Not when she's in enemy territory and a shockcollar around her neck.

“ _Oso na hit choda op nodotaim."_   And then there’s static, and she’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trig words:   
> Amin- master  
> Ai hod yu in - I love you   
> Oso na hit choda op nodotaim - We will meet again 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting.


	5. Chapter 5

Madi isn’t happy, and as they race through the desert, she makes her distaste at being kidnapped loudly known.

“Where are we going?” growls the teen after brilliantly cursing them all for ten minutes.

“Home.” Clarke’s grip on the steering wheel is white-knuckled, her shoulders tense, blue eyes intent on the dunes.

“What? NO! Clarke, we can’t go! Octavia will be so disappointed.”

Bellamy sees a vein pulsing in Clarke’s forehead; her jaws pressed together, he puts a hand on the one she has on the gearshift. His fingers still fit perfectly over hers. Clarke throws him a half smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s not up for discussion, Madi.”

“Why don’t you trust her? She’s a great leader!”

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” grumbles the blonde and Bellamy knows that’s the wrong thing to say even before she’s finished talking.

“So you don’t trust Blodreina, but you trust _them_? They’re harboring murderers!”

Bellamy groans, leaning his head back on the headrest, Clarke’s voice is strained as she answers: “We’re all murderers, Madi.”

“No! Blodreina is a hero. She’s doing what’s right for her people.”

“And I am doing what’s right for mine! That means you. And you might not like it, but it’s what it is.”

Bellamy chances a look at the teenager. She’s pressing her lips together, arms crossed over her chest, an angry frown on her face. Across from her, Monty and Harper shift uncomfortably. The silence is oppressive for a few minutes. When the small device in Monty’s hands beeps, startling them all.

“We’re out of the eye’s range.”

Bellamy swallows looking at Clarke. She’s frowning intently at the dunes. When he speaks his voice’s hoarse. He knows he’s trapping all of Wonkru in Polis. Knows this will mean Octavia’s downfall, knows he won’t be there to help. Once he gives the order any chance, Wonkru might have of crossing the dessert will vanish. And once they talk with Diyoza, she won’t risk bringing any more defectors to the valley. He’s basically condemning hundreds of people to slow starvation.

 _They’ve already planned for the eventuality of staying in the bunker indefinitely,_ whispers a voice in his head. _They must have._

He sighs.

Not two weeks on the ground and he’s already become a mass murderer again. Maybe that’s what he is. Maybe he can’t stop because that’s what he is. Maybe that’s why Octavia’s so messed up, she learned it from him.

“Do it.”

Monty starts tapping. “Erasing the loop. Dissolving the back door.” He swallows. “It’s done, we don’t have access to Eligius’ eye anymore.”

Madi huffs angrily, stomping her feet on the metal floor.

For a while the only sound in the rover comes from the engine, growling away as it pulls them across the desert.

Eden appears suddenly as they take a sharp turn in a narrow ravine. The dunes open and there it is: large lush trees, growing taller than the dunes, soft grass, and dark brown dirt, flowers sprinkling the scenery with random splashes of color.

They park the rover in a cave, hiding the entrance with big branches.

“Ok. You two go to the dropship” Bellamy tells Harper and Monty, while Clarke and Madi whisper a few feet away. “Find Murphy and Emori. They know the drill, they should be keeping an eye on it.”

Monty looks skeptic at that, and if Murphy were alone, Bellamy would have his doubts, too. But Emori is good sticking to plans, and she has a special talent for keeping their more revel family member in line.

“And stay there. We will join you as soon as we’ve gotten Raven and Echo out of the village.”

Clarke and Madi come over to where they stand. “Madi is going with you. Keep an eye on her, please.”

“I am not a _child_ ” the young teen spits. “I can take care of myself.”

“I will believe that when you stop acting like one.”

Madi purses her lips. “Diyoza tortured you. And she invaded our home.”

“Sometimes you have to take the lesser of two evils.”

“Why are you so convinced that Diyoza is the lesser of the two evils?”

Clarke’s sigh is one Bellamy thought he would never hear again. It’s the same sigh his mother would utter when Octavia was being especially difficult. “She doesn’t have a fighting pit drenched in blood.”

“She has shock collars.”

“We don’t know that Diyoza is the lesser evil,” says Bellamy. “The only thing we know is that they’re in the valley and that this valley is the only survivable place on earth. And she has Raven and Echo.”

Madi scrunches her nose, clearly not happy about it. “I’ll stay with them.”

Clarke hugs her fiercely. “Stay safe.”

Monty, Harper, and Madi set off towards the place where Emori landed their dropship, leaving Clarke and Bellamy to trek alone towards the village.


	6. Chapter 6

The silence is awkward between them as they walk through the forest. Bellamy finds himself conflicted between wanting to break it, and reveling in it: in the opportunity to enjoy these moments back in the woods he missed so much: the soft dirt under his boots, the intense smells in the air, the feeling of rough bark under his fingertips.

When they take a turn, and the trees fall away, revealing a lush clearing, complete with a roaring waterfall, a mirror-like lake, and a deer skipping back into the foliage, his heart stops.

This this is home. He can nearly see their little huts huddled on the edge of the clearing, a small garden where Monty can grow their vegetables, a long-house where they can share their meals, meet to watch movies. A small squat building that would be Raven’s workshop. They could hunt in these forests, jump from the waterfall into the lake and, maybe a mill on the river sneaking out of the clearing? He would build a swing set – he always wanted a swing, maybe Madi would appreciate it. And behind his hut, they could clear a small sparring ring for Echo. First thing in the morning he would run laps around the lake with her by his side, just like they did on the ring. And come home to breakfast with Clarke and Madi…

He flinches at the selfishness of that thought. To assume-

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” asks Clarke beside him.

“Yes.”

“There are caves behind the waterfall. We have an emergency stock in there: tents and hunting equipment.”

“Were you afraid someone might attack you?”

“I like to be prepared for everything.” There’s a beat. “The rover used to break down all the time, so we had different spots all over the valley, where we could bunker down until it decided to work again.”

“Smart.”

“It was a necessity. Once we got caught in a thunderstorm. We got hypothermia.” She swallows. “It was back at the beginning when the temperatures fluctuated harshly and without warning and all our crops died.”

“I didn’t know you had crops.”

“We don’t. They never grew.”

She turns on her heel, shutting him out again. He feels a pang of guilt like he’s said something to offend her somehow.

They walk in silence for a few more minutes.

“I wish I knew what happened to you,” he finds himself saying.

Clarke frowns at him. “What do you mean? Nothing happened to me.”

“I mean-“ He climbs over the huge trunk of a fallen tree, turns to offer his hand for Clarke. The blonde looks at it for a moment too long before taking it. His heart does a little somersault. “You must have a thousand stories about your time on the ground.” He shrugs. His hand tingles when she lets go of him. “I wish you would tell me.”

She seems irritated by the proposition, opens her mouth to snap at him, but closes it with an audible click instead. “There isn’t much to tell. You probably have better ones from the Ark.”

“Ah! But you know how life on the Ring was already. I never knew what peace on the ground was.” He tries for a smile; Clarke’s eyes on him are harsh and ice cold. “Look, Clarke. I am trying here.”

The blonde sighs. It’s a tired, defeated sound. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… I told you all there was to tell already.” Bellamy frowns and she can’t look him in the eye. “Back when you were up on the Ring. I always hoped that you could hear me, even if you couldn’t answer.” She chuckles a self-deprecating little laugh. “I guess the radio was shit.”

“Raven said radio waves couldn’t get through due to atmospheric radiation or something like that,” he explains.

Another silence, slightly less awkward now. “Ok, how about this: you tell me a story about the Ring, and I tell you one of the ground.”

Bellamy chuckles. “Ok”

“You start.”

And so the rest of the walk goes, swapping stories, getting reacquainted, becoming friends once again, trusting each other with their secrets.

The problem is the more they talk, the more he discovers about this new, more mature Clarke, the more the feelings he had for her six years ago reawaken, bullying their way back into his heart, reclaiming that spot between his heart and his lungs that shaped like her.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, this was unbeta'd.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting


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